Moments worth living for
by A-Karana
Summary: Set in episode 8.09: Provoked by the statement "My Ziva" Tony confronts Eli David when they are alone...


**Moments worth living for**

I watched the scene from my spot in front of the elevator. The others had entered already and the doors had closed, but I was still standing there watching the two of them. When he put the small Israeli flag on her desk I felt the urge to go over there and push it off the desk, because it repulsed me so much, just like the guy himself.

I protected him these last few days because it was my job and because he's Ziva's father. He might be the worst father in the world, but I know she cares about him and wants his love and respect. If he would have been killed on my watch because I don't care if the guy lives or dies then it most likely would have destroyed the trust Ziva has in me.

Now I am standing in the elevator with him, just the two of us, and have to hold onto the railing inside so I am able keep myself from taking the two steps over to him and punch him right into the face. The tension between us in the small confined space couldn't be cut with a knife- a chainsaw wouldn't be able to make it through.

We haven't exchanged a single word since he arrived and I hope for his sake that he will keep his mouth shut until he's in the air, otherwise I can't guarantee for anything.

The elevator stops in the garage and I walk out first without sparing him another glance. I am shocked when there's only one car there without a driver.

"Agent Gibbs told me to tell you that they already left for the hotel and you and Director David are to meet them at the airport," one of the techs down in the garage tells me. I groan, can't keep it in. If Gibbs realizes how much he is testing my self- control? Or does he want me to lose it? With him you never really know. I take the key Steve gives me and press the button on it so the beeping signal of the opening car echoes through the semi empty garage. _I could shoot him here, no one would stop me. _The thought shoots through my head and my hand goes to my gun, just touching it to assure me that it's there.

I can feel and hear him coming up behind me and I know my spine stiffens. Quickly I take my hand off the gun so I'm not tempted. I reach for the driver's door when he stops me by speaking up. The guy's got some nerve.

"It seems there is something you want to tell me Agent DiNozzo. So speak. I think we should get it out of the way before we get into that car," Eli David says in that snotty tone of voice he always has. The one that is supposed to make him sound superior, like he knows everything and can look right inside of your head and see your darkest secrets.

"I have nothing to say to you," I get out between clenched teeth, grip the door handle and pull hard so the door flies open.

"Then let me then say thank you for saving my daughter," he says a bit quieter and before I can help myself I slam the car door shut again, whirl around, grab him by the collar of his shirt and shove him up against the nearest wall. I hold him there, hear him gasp in pain as his hurt shoulder hits the concrete and feel his eyes on me. I have my other hand already drawn back, hand clenched in a fist, ready to throw the punch. I stop myself before it's too late. The effort it costs me is enormous and I am literally shaking with rage. Still I hold him against the wall, hold his look and try to find some emotion in his eyes.

"Which time?" I hiss, can't stop myself. There's confusion in his eyes for a split second. "Yesterday when the guy nearly shot her after you escaped in the car? Every time when we're in a fire fight together and have each other's backs? When she starts bar fights because a suspect or witness touches her? When we are trapped in a container and she nearly loses her nerves? When I stay with her when she decides to unarm yet another bomb? In Paris? Undercover? When you framed her? Please, be more specific," I demand, my voice shaking with fury as much as my body. I decide I have to let him go and step away from him or I will do something I would regret later. I lower my arms and slowly let go of him. I take three steps back and tuck my suit jacket back into place, while he leaves his shirt as wrinkled as it is and only stares at me. It's expectant, cautious and insistent.

"You know which time I am talking about," he finally replies after what seems like an eternity.

"Ah, of course," I laugh humorlessly. "The time you ordered your only living child on a suicide mission in Somalia, where she was tortured and beaten. How could I forget that one?" I am basically yelling be the end of the sentence, but I don't care. We're alone, no one can hear us and it might be my chance.

"I always thought my father wasn't really parent of the month material, but you…" I lack an expression to describe the hate I am feeling. Yes, I can honestly say that I hate him for what he did to Ziva. "You raise your daughter to become a killer, a weapon only you can command. And when she leaves you and allows herself to become human you have people spy on her and manipulate her. My father might try to steal away a girlfriend of mine or cop a feel, but he would never have someone make me believe she loves me, only to control me."

"You are talking of Michael Rivkin, I suppose. The man you killed out of jealousy." I know he's trying to push my buttons. He's good, I have to give him that, but at this game I am better.

"You betrayed your daughter's trust and when she wasn't only loyal to you anymore you sent her to die," I go on and don't swallow his bait.

"I did not send me daughter to die!" This time he raises his voice and his eyes flash with cold hatred. Guess the animosity isn't one sided.

"No? To make her pay then?" I say with a derogative snort. " I have to admit: You did one hell of a job." The compliment is dripping with sarcasm. "What I saw and what I read in the protocols has me on the couch of a therapist once a week so I can get some sleep at night and don't hear her screams in my head," I reveal something that I never told anyone before. I am still blaming myself for what happened. If I hadn't shot Rivkin, if she would have trusted me more, if I hadn't provoked her... Gibbs wouldn't have left her in Israel and she wouldn't have found herself in the terrorist camp. "But maybe you would like to hear how your punishment worked? She ever told you that they beat her so badly to break her in the beginning that her eyes were swollen shut, her rips were broken and whole tufts of hair ripped from her head? Or maybe it'd make you proud to hear that she was able to hold out during all of this, even when they used electroshocks and burned her skin." I'm on a roll now and with everything I say I can see the pictures in my head again. I can't make them go away although I never really saw them live, but I read the reports even though I wasn't supposed to. I just… I had to know. Couldn't sleep anymore afterwards and seeing Ziva now, healthy and strong, makes me understand just how strong a woman she is.

"Stop it," he orders, but I won't. I can't.

"Or maybe you'd want to know what actually broke her for further notice, if you need it again? They raped her so badly that she was barely able to walk anymore. They took shifts, did things I would have to look up the terms on the internet to give you a name for them." My voice is low and dangerous again and just saying it out loud makes me want to kill the guy again. "I don't know if you ever talked to your kids about sex, but after all you set Michael at Ziva, so maybe you want the details?" I add with played sleaziness.

"I said stop it!" he screams and looks more shaken than I ever thought he could be. His eyes are wide and I realize for the first time that Ziva has his eyes. Before they were always so cold and quiet it gave me chills. Ziva's eyes are lively and always talking to me, telling me the things her mouth won't say.

"Why? Isn't that what you wanted? Or maybe you wanted them to kill her nice and fast? Would be easier on the conscience, huh?" I taunt him even more.

"You have no idea what you are talking about," he hollers and steps into my personal space. We are glaring at one another, seizing each other up, but I am not done talking yet.

"Oh, I know," I assure him and manage a smile that surely is contorted. "Because we rescued her and were there for her when you weren't. We celebrated her birthday with her, are there for Hanukkah, and bring her chicken soup when she has a cold," I can't help but brag. "I… we love her, we're her family now, so don't you dare to come here without even apologizing once to her, place that fucking flag on her desk and call her 'My Ziva'." I am screaming again, louder and more furious than during the whole conversation before. She's not his- she's mine!

"She is _my _daughter," he emphasizes on the 'my' part. Possessive bastard.

"You probably should have read more Gibran than Robert E. Howard," I say calmly. I can't let him get to me if I don't want Ziva to kill me.

"Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you," he quotes in what can only be described as a hiss.

"I was actually more talking about the 'they belong not to you' part," I clarify and his look darkens even more but he remains silent. "I didn't bring Ziva back from that hellhole so you can strut around and talk about 'your' daughter, boss her around and manipulate her again. I won't let you." I know I can't threaten him, but that doesn't stop me from trying. He can fight all the terrorists in the world, but if he messes with Ziva again he'd better watch out for me.

"I just saw my daughter again for the first time and you won't stop me from seeing her again," he says with conviction and if I wasn't so furious still I would be scared by the look in his eyes.

"I won't let you hurt her again. I will do _whatever it takes_ to prevent that," I say slowly so he will understand every syllable and hopefully remember them. I want them to echo through his head whenever he only thinks about saying one mean word to her. Strangely his eyes soften and his anger seems to disappear. That's not what I wanted! Or is he just playing me? I don't know what to make of it, so I just smile the smile of a superiority I don't feel anymore. I'm pissed that he's not attacking me- at least then I'd have a reason to beat him to a pulp.

"You should have studied your Gibran better, Agent DiNozzo," he says then and pats my shoulder amicably with his one uninjured hand. "You should read chapter two instead of chapter nineteen." I have to admit to myself that I lost him. No idea about the chapters in the book. "Maybe they make a movie out of it one day, so you'll be able to understand it." The arrogant smile is back on his face, he is provoking me again and I've had enough. With both hands I push him away from me, so he stumbles against the wall again. Suddenly the hatred is back and he seems as furious as me and storms in my direction. I get ready for his attack, place my feet firmly on the ground and raise my fists…

"Hey! Stop it!" There's a yell and I know who that voice belongs to. We are busted. "Have you lost your minds?" she asks us while we just stare at her, both a bit ashamed that she found us like this, but still angry enough to attack. "Aba, get into the car before you hurt your shoulder even more," she orders him with a look that silences even his protests. We watch him as he slowly walks to the car and gets in the backseat.

"What were you thinking? You nearly got into a fist fight with my father," she turns to me when the car door slams shut. Just when I open my mouth to reply she gently places a finger on my lips to silence me. She takes a deep breath, her eyes are soft and vulnerable and she doesn't seem upset about the fight anymore. "We will talk about this later, when we get back from the airport. I think we have a lot to talk about," she states.

"How much did you hear?" I ask, because her eyes are telling me that she used her ninja skills to eavesdrop on us. In that case I'm not busted… I'm dead.

"A lot. Abby mentioned that the others had already left and I thought it wouldn't be wise to leave you two unsupervised," she confirms my suspicions.

"Look, I know I shouldn't have…" I can't get farther with my apology because she shuts me up again. With her lips on mine. Her soft, warm, delicious lips. I didn't see that coming and must look like a gaping fish when she pulls back way too quickly.

"Later Tony. Let me see my father off first," she smiles and stays close to me, her fingers playing with the buttons on my shirt, then straighten my tie. "It seems like I need to have a letter with him and you have some reading to do."

"A word, Ziva, a word," I correct her out of habit. "And what do you want me to read?"

"Gibran, Tony. I have to say I'm really surprised you even know who he is," she replies with a small, teasing smile. "And my father is wrong a lot of times, but sometimes he is right." She winks at me and I think my heart is going to jump out of my chest any moment. She's so gorgeous. "Sometimes life surprises you," she adds and I can't help but pull her closer to me, while my eyes lock with hers, reading what she doesn't say with words.

"Those are the moments worth living for," I repeat Eli's words and on this one thing I agree with him. My one arm wraps around her waist, while I tangle my other hand in her hair as our lips meet again. This kiss is longer with more passion, more feeling… more tongue. When we pull back we're both breathing hard and have to laugh about it a second later.

"I am going take my father to the airport now. My place, eight o'clock? You bring the movie, I provide the food?" she suggests and I can't do anything but grin, nod and kiss her quickly in agreement. She's addictive this Ziva David. David… that reminds me of her father and I throw a quick look over her shoulder in direction of the car. He's staring at us through the window and I am elated by the simple thought of "Ha! I win!" that goes through my mind.

"Sounds great. Drive save," I tell her with a wide smile after I steal another kiss. She steps out of my arms then, gets into the car and drives off, her father still glaring at me until they are out of sight. Whistling I step back into the elevator and ride up to the bullpen.

I know Gibran's work is online and so I decide to do the reading as I was told to.

_Chapter nineteen: On friendship. 'Your friend is your needs answered. When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay." And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart; For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed. When you part from your friend, you grieve not;_ ' Ok… that's actually what I was told not to read. The one I should read was.. Chapter two, right?

_Chapter two: On Love._ _'When love beckons to you follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. (…)Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love_.'

Damn, seems like he got me, seems like he knows. I wrinkle my forehead, not content with the knowledge that he can read me that well. then however I have to smile again, because I remember the kisses in the garage. _My_ Ziva!

**The end**

**This one shot exists because I was somewhat disappointed that Tony never confronted Eli David about Somalia. Then I thought "What if he confronted him..." and the idea was born. Took me until yesterday evening to make it beyond that simple idea.**

**Hope you like it.  
**


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